The Queen's Counsel
by Sindaria
Summary: The harsh freeze has left Queen Elsa in a terrible predicament: Her people are starving, and Arendelle's once-allies have turned their back on trade negotiations. When the Queen of the Southern Isles offers her youngest and most manipulative son as a trade advisor, Elsa has no choice but to accept. [ElsaxHans]
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** It's been a long while since I've written any fan fiction, but I'm excited to jump back into it. I'm on Christmas vacation for a few more days, but once I head back to work my updates will unfortunately take a bit longer than I'd like. If you enjoy the story, please read and review! I'm also not opposed to it being posted elsewhere, but be sure to credit and link. Thanks!

_**A note on the ship:**_ This is a HansxElsa story, and it's set in the mostly canon 'verse. I'm a big fan of redemption fics, so that's what this will likely be in the end. I'm also a fan of slow burn, so if you prefer a quicker romance story, this probably isn't the one for you. This is rated T for now, but will be rated M later on. So again, if that's a deal-breaker for you, you might not wish to proceed!

* * *

Elsa had made a mistake. It wasn't huge, but it was there, staring at her from the grain ledger. A number in red, that had once been black.

In truth, she'd made a tangled series of mistakes. Her cynical side thought she'd been making them since birth, but in this particular case, it had been since her coronation. The sudden frost in the middle of summer had doomed many of Arendelle's crops.

The farmers concentrated on hardier crops that could withstand the harsh winters.. When there was warning; the crispness of the air that promised something more once the sky fell drowsy. But there had been no warning. None but her own heart. The barley was damaged, the oats nearly unsalvageable. And now that winter truly was approaching, Elsa was beginning to see just how dire the situation had become.

She'd tried to when it was first brought to her attention, despite the key details not being shared with her until early autumn. Her people still feared her. There was no way of softening that fact. They feared if they upset her, she would… Well. She would put them into this very same predicament.

Regardless, she acted swiftly. Arendelle often went through lean periods, though they had never approached the brink of a famine before. But this was not the typical ebb and flow of the seasons, and Elsa knew she would have to ask for help.

It was the one thing she hated doing, but as Queen she had to put her personal feelings aside for the betterment of her people. No matter what.

Wesselton was their closest resource, but that was hardly an option. She knew she would receive aid from Corona if she asked for it-and she had-but there was only so much they could spare. That left Vaas, Svetland, Leide, Ostar, and… the Southern Isles.

The last was completely out of the question, despite its relative proximity, so she brokered a deal with Vaas. Elsa had been generous in her offer. Arendelle would trade a variety of hides and leathers, both processed and not, as well as refined ore from the northern mountains. In exchange, Vaas would provide them with enough grain to sustain them through the swiftly-approaching winter, until they could plant new crops in the spring.

But something had gone wrong.

"Kai? If I might beg your assistance for a moment," she called over her shoulder as one of her father's most loyal men helped tidy the room. They'd hired new servants since opening the gates, but there were few she trusted beyond their normal duties.

"Of course, Your Majesty."

She was seated at a desk of polished mahogany, a shipping manifest at the top of what was quickly becoming a large stack of papers. She always seemed to flirt with the precipice of chaos where paperwork was concerned, but today's venture was particularly harrowing.

"This is the manifest from the three ships that returned from Vaas this morning. The dock workers accounted for all of the bins, but it's far less than what we agreed upon."

"And they are certain there was nothing more aboard the vessels?"

"Yes." She pressed two fingers to her temple. "I oversaw the operation myself. They unloaded everything. I thought perhaps I had made a mistake…" Her gaze flicked between the two papers. No. She was certain she had not.

"Perhaps it was an honest miscount on their part, Majesty, and they are sending the rest of the grain on a different vessel. Have you received any correspondence from the king?" He hid his worry well, but Elsa could detect the slightest hint of it.

She sifted through the unopened letters. Usually she had broken many a seal by this hour, but this morning a stack still remained. When she found the emblem of Vaas, a proud brown bear standing atop a jagged cliff, she opened the letter with a practiced hand.

But the more she read, the more unsteady it became.

_HRH, Queen Elsa of Arendelle_

_The Kingdom of Vaas thanks you for your gift. It will certainly add weight in the consideration of any future trade negotiations with Arendelle. For the time being, however, I must regretfully inform you that His Majesty, King Erik III, cannot foster an agreement as was previously arranged._

_While he would like to express sympathy toward the plight of Arendelle, and has on good faith offered surplus grain from our harvest, His Majesty feels it is in the Kingdom's best interest to distance itself from Arendelle._

_We graciously accept your gift, and perhaps we can re-examine our negotiations in the future._

_Lord Aleksander_

_Steward of the King_

"Gift…" The word was barely a whisper amid a frigid current. The telltale crackle of ice snaking its way across the desk was all but ignored. "Gift?" The second was more forceful, as she stared at the letter with a mix of indignation and honest shock.

But after a few moments, she slipped cooly into the place she always arrived when confronted with such things. Of course they had gone back on the deal. Arendelle was practically begging for assistance, put into the most vulnerable position she could remember. And with her as Queen...

"Your Majesty…" There was the fear she expected.

Elsa looked up. Despite her ever-present gloves, ice covered her desk and everything on it, beginning to spread outward. The only thing not frozen was the very letter that had inspired it, crumpled in her hand as her fingers curled around it.

She drew in a long breath through her nose, closing her eyes. _Don't feel._ When she slowly opened them again, the ice was gone.

"I am sure Your Majesty can make another trade. Perhaps if you would invite the dignitaries to Arendelle, they would be more accommodating."

"And what if this happens again? We're running out of time, Kai," she snapped. "And I don't have the patience for monarchs who wish to put my peoples' lives in danger simply because of-"

Because of me, she thought. Because of my actions.

She felt so lost. Papa would know what to do, she was sure of it. But then again, he wouldn't be in this situation in the first place. "Forgive me…"

"Always, Your Majesty."

She gave a small smile at that, then returned her gaze to the letter. A sigh escaped her lips, and she pressed it straight with her palms before banishing it to the far side of her desk. "Thank you for your counsel. I would… Like some time alone, if I may."

"Of course."

The door closed softly behind him and Elsa tilted her head back, drawing in another shuddering breath. The people of Arendelle were going to starve. This was not one of Anna's oh-so-slightly-embellished stories. Thousands of people depended on her. Thousands of people feared her. Some may have even hated her.

Her gaze cast toward her father's portrait. Strong. Regal. Yes, he would know what to do. Conceal. Don't feel. Don't let it show. She could take care of this. She could fix it, and no one would be the wiser.

_But how?_

She used two fingers to sift through the remaining letters, one by one, as if they might hold some answer. It was unlikely, but there was still a glimmer of hope within her that hadn't been swallowed by the winter winds. It was Anna's doing, she knew. But Elsa could handle a slight spark of optimism if it meant having her sister back.

Her finger moved across a raised seal. Tracing its outline, her breath caught in her throat. A swan, pressed into bright red wax. The seal of the Southern Isles. Elsa jerked her hand up as though she'd been burned, and her teeth clenched together, stirring an ache in her jaw.

It was wrong to feel such utter disgust and hatred toward a place she had never been-especially as the temperature within the drawing room plummeted-but Elsa didn't care. What that scheming, inhuman wretch of a man had done to her sister was unforgivable, and it would forever ruin the Southern Isles for her. All of the times she had wished to see them when she was a child, alone in her room with only her father's atlas-no more.

Now it was the last place she wanted to be. All because of him. If she had been the object of his manipulation, she imagined it would feel different. Empty. Hollow. An ache that was just as strong as the anger she would feel toward herself for ever trusting him in the first place. But no. He had preyed upon Anna. Anna who wanted nothing more than human companionship. Who thought she was in love because she knew no different. The easiest mark, and one only a coward would choose.

Elsa's breath curled in an icy white mist before her. What could they possibly want? If it was an apology-which was certainly due-it was owed to Anna, not her. But it had landed in her study, so likely it was a jumble of politics awash with false pleasantries and the condescending sneer that she liked to think was worn by all royals from the Southern Isles.

A swan, indeed.

She found herself slicing through that swan, breaking the seal, and suddenly the letter was laid out before her, written in flowing, elegant script. She scanned to the bottom, to verify who had penned it. Likely another steward. But to her surprise, it was signed "Queen Adeline of the Southern Isles."

Elsa's lips pursed. Her father had always said the Queen was a kind and fair woman, if a bit timid for what was expected of her position. But then, according to Anna, Hans had seemed kind and fair, as well. Perhaps he learned from his mother.

Her eyes narrowed, and after a moment of debating her own foolishness, she read the letter from the beginning.

_HRH, Queen Elsa of Arendelle,_

_If you have opened this letter, then you must truly be a kinder soul than I. I know what you must think of us-of our kingdom-and I cannot place any fault with you. The crimes my son perpetuated were beyond reprehensible, and nothing I say can ever erase them. I can only offer my deepest regrets to you, and to your sister._

_When I originally penned this letter months ago, my intention was to invite you to the Southern Isles, to ask for your counsel in the matter of my son's imprisonment, as I feel you had-and still have-a right to decide. But my husband felt it would behoove us all to act swiftly in this matter, and so Hans' punishment was decided by the King, with counsel from our eldest son._

Elsa shook her head, one hand tangling through her hair. Would she have accepted that invitation? Doubtful. As much as she wanted to see that man buried in proper comeuppance, she wanted no part in the process.

_As Arendelle is considered an ally of the Southern Isles, Hans' crime was determined as treason. I could not bear the sentence of death, and I came forward with a differing proposal. Hans was to spend five years as a servant to the throne. During this time, he was to serve each of his brothers in turn, and through them serve the people of our kingdom. I had hoped it would provide discipline, perspective, and perhaps the attention he so needed. I had hoped it would change him, and return him to the son I remembered._

"You have to be joking," she murmured. What next? A slap on the wrist? No one changed. Not truly.

But she was no fool. She realized the irony in her thinking. Her so-called allies believed the same of her. She was a monster. Incapable of change. But Hans… Hans was the worst kind of monster. One that could blend with the crowds and hide in plain sight.

_My husband says I am a bleeding heart. Perhaps that is true, but I am still hopeful that my son will grow from this experience. If he has not made a very noticeable change in five years, I have agreed to let the king pass full judgement upon him. In the meantime, he is watched at all hours, and a prisoner within his home, only leaving it to perform his duties._

_I say this not because I believe it will satisfy you. Were I in your position, I would be inclined toward nothing less than death. But it has occurred to me many times over the past few months that Hans owes service not just to the Southern Isles, but to Arendelle, as well._

Elsa's breath caught in her throat. No. She didn't want to read any more of this. It was true. She could not deny that it was true. But having him here would fix nothing. In fact, it would very likely exacerbate the situation well beyond her tolerance. She would not be his keeper.

_As a representing dignitary on the North Coastal Trade Council, I have been privy to several misconceptions centered around you and, if you will forgive my bluntness, your curse. I imagine trade will be very difficult for you, if it has not been already. It is unfair, on all counts, but I find that is the unfortunate nature of politics._

_I would like to extend an offer, Your Highness. I would like to offer Hans as an advisor for the purposes of trade. I make this offer knowing that you are not likely to accept, but please understand that I have no hidden agenda. What I have stated is what I desire. I wish my son well, as much as I wish him to serve for his crimes._

She let out an incredulous little laugh before her hand softly covered her mouth. Of course she was not likely to accept. The idea was preposterous. And yet she found herself reading on, as if unable to tear away her horrified gaze from a shipwreck upon the rocks.

_I have taught him what I know, and as you have more than witnessed, he is particularly adept at getting others to acquiesce to his whims. I believe this trait could be useful, and if anyone should make use of it for the purpose of good, it is you. Name your terms, and we will abide by them in full. While I do not expect you will wish to re-open trade between our great nations, I hope this can be a step toward mending our alliance._

_With Warm Regards,_

_Queen Adeline of the Southern Isles_

Elsa stared at the letter, her breathing measured. The flurries that had swirled around suddenly ceased, as if sucked back into the vortex of time and space. Surely this Queen was totally and irreversibly mad beyond all reason. As long as Elsa lived, Prince Hans of the Southern Isles would never set foot in Arendelle again.

How dare she presume. How dare she act sympathetic to their plight. And how dare she try to win any measure of sympathy for her monster of a son.

But… she was right. The sensation twisted in Elsa's gut, for she knew what Adeline said of the trade alliance was true. She had experienced it firsthand with Vaas, and instinctively she knew she would get no other response. Not so soon after the incident. Not while winter's scars still healed.

By the time they forgot-by the time they forgave-a third of the kingdom would be gone. Lost because of her own carelessness. Her own selfishness.

And she could not refute that Hans' manipulations would make him well-suited for the job. She had been taught how to play this game-her father had seen to that-but how could she play a game she was already condemned to lose?

Elsa's blood froze in her veins. The air thinned around her. She was in the mountains again, but this time it was not of her own accord. She was trapped there, and the howling wind was far from the comfort she imagined.

_Don't feel._ She couldn't afford to feel. She was the Queen. Queen of a frozen kingdom that was starving by her own hand. And as Queen, she had to do what was best for her people. No matter what.

Her shaky hand reached for the pen, willing it not to freeze solid in her grasp.

How was she going to explain this to Anna?


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Thank you all for the reviews and the favs! I certainly hope you're enjoying it.

I didn't state it in the beginning, but this will be a dual-POV fic, alternating each chapter. I hope you enjoy getting inside of Hans' head as much as I have.

* * *

Hans stared out the window, his gloved hands resting on the sill. A large crowd of people had gathered in the square. By invitation, mostly. His mother liked to be certain of just who was milling about within the gates. To her credit, it was a diverse crowd, filled with nobles and commoners alike.

He wouldn't be joining them for the festivities. Just as well, really. He'd never cared for the Autumn Harvest Festival. A chill always managed to sneak its way into the evening air, reminding him that winter was close behind.

His father was likely in attendance, though he hadn't spotted his towering form. As Crown Prince, Alvar would be there. Gerhard, as well. He always enjoyed a good festival. Despite being only a few years older than Hans, he usually behaved like a boy of fifteen.

For all of his dislike of that particular festival, there was a certain amount of longing in Hans' gaze. He would tolerate a hundred festivals in the dead of winter if it meant not being alone. But this was his punishment. He was given contact with others when it pleased them-usually when they needed something-but otherwise he was left here. To rot.

And while it wasn't a cell, he would almost prefer a simple stone box with no windows and no doors. At least then he couldn't be teased by the outside world, oh-so-close and yet just out of his grasp.

A knock at the door pulled him from his thoughts. He flinched-a common reflex he'd adapted in this household-and his skin flushed slightly, but he didn't bother to move from where he stood. Instead he shifted his weight and adopted an expression of extreme disinterest.

The door opened after a cautious knock, and between that and the light footfalls, he could guess it was Roland. He drew in a slow breath before letting it go, the warmth of it blossoming a bit of fog against the window. Roland would never dream of "interrupting" until a suitable amount of time had passed. But Hans just didn't have the patience for it, and he turned to face his brother.

Nearly ten years his senior, Roland was situated in the middle of the Southern Isles' brood, and he certainly bore the wear and tear of a middle child. He was barely past thirty, but looked at least fifteen years older, lines etched into his face, his features sallow and sunken.

It wasn't all the effect of being a middle child, though. Even now, Hans couldn't fully look at the right side of his brother's face. The other was so horribly disfigured, covered in the unsettling smoothness that could only be left by a severe burn.

Even now it made him anxious. A sensation twitched through his fingers, and he had to curl them into his palms to get it to stop.

"Hans."

A thin smirk touched his lips. He could appreciate a good lead-in story as much as the next person, but prompting him with his name was useless, and there was no response he could give. Instead his brow just arched, and he folded his arms behind his back.

"Enjoying the festival?" Roland had a knack for not knowing what to say in any given situation.

"Oh, immensely. I'm surprised you aren't down there, mingling with the masses. You'd be the talk of the town."

Hans winced. There were so many times when he regretted the words that came out of his mouth. Most of those times involved Roland.

His brother's chest rose and fell a bit heavily, but he didn't falter beyond it. "There's no need to be cruel."

"Sorry," he said lamely, and after a brief pause, amended, "I'm sorry. If I have to stare at these walls for another day..." His brow knit, and he averted his gaze from his brother's kind green eyes.

"Well, I'm here to offer respite for the time being. Mother wishes to speak with you."

Of course she would send Roland. It was as clear a message as any, and Hans instinctively stood a little straighter. "Is she incapable of making the walk to this part of the castle?"

"She said it's 'stuffy and cramped,'" he said, giving a dismissive wave. "You know how she can be."

"She should try living here," he said thickly.

"There are worse fates, baby brother."

Hans' skin flushed a bit hotter, and something lit through his eyes. "I doubt that."

Thirteen sons. They certainly wouldn't miss the most troublesome one. If only his mother had let it go. She should never have insisted on this ridiculous stay of execution.

Normally he would see the pardon as a challenge-issued so that he would do everything in his power to sabotage himself and end up on the executioner's block regardless. But lately Hans just didn't have the energy to fight the decision. Confined and alone, he mostly spent his time trying to decide how feasible it was for a chasm to open up beneath his room and swallow him into the earth.

"You're being dramatic."

For a moment he wondered if Roland could hear his thoughts. "Well, lucky for her my schedule is clear. Would you like to intertwine arms, or have I provoked too much scandal for such a scene?"

Roland chuckled, but only just. Out of all of his brothers, he at least seemed to grasp the concept of humor, even if he didn't always appreciate it.

"I think it would spoil your reputation more than mine." He used his wide-set chin to gesture toward the door.

They walked through the empty halls in silence, with Hans' arms still folded neatly behind his back. Anyone else would have requested support from at least one of the castle guards, if not two. But Roland knew better. There was an unspoken agreement between the two of them-one that often saw them keeping their distance from one another.

By the time they reached the study-a massive room that had been largely claimed by the Queen-Roland seemed all-too-eager to be dismissed. Hans really couldn't blame him, and for a moment he looked upon his brother with something resembling sympathy.

_It's a wonder he can even stand being in the same room with me_, he thought.

"Mother," Roland called to her through the door. "I've brought Hans."

"Bring him in, please."

Roland pulled open the door and gestured for Hans to go first, then waited until he was dismissed. Adeline did so, informing him that he and his family were invited to sup with them that evening. It was a rare courtesy, as she seemed to like taking her meals alone or with their father, but it was one Roland seemed to appreciate.

He didn't linger, though, and Adeline didn't acknowledge Hans for several moments. He watched as she crossed the room and plucked a book from the shelf. She was graceful, but not in the fine, precise way he had come to expect from practiced royalty. Everything seemed to come easily to her, and there was a vibrancy not only to her movements, but seemingly to her very existence. She warmed the entire room whenever she was present.

She was one of the few in the household who was truly fond of him, so that did explain some of his admiration. But everyone who interacted with her-even those who had only viewed her from afar-could only describe her as warm, comforting, and kind.

It was a helpful disposition to have, and Hans had modeled his public persona in her image.

That hadn't worked out too well, for where hers was a gentle, welcoming warmth, Hans' was an intense flame that quickly burned out.

"How are you, my dear?" When she finally turned to face him, there was concern in her expression that made him almost wish to give a proper answer.

_Almost._

"Oh, just wonderful. And yourself?"

"Busy." She disregarded his sarcasm, which Hans considered an appropriate response. "As you soon will be, too."

"Oh?" He wandered to the line of bookcases that covered the far wall, one finger running over the spines. "What will it be today? Filling out more paperwork for Alvar? Heading up Gerhard's fencing lessons while he slips off with that maid you so loathe?"

"You'll be going to Arendelle."

Adeline was not known for her abruptness. She was fond of flowery language and skirting around the point until someone else brought it up. This rendered Hans speechless. He stared at her, gaping. Pinpricks lit across his skin and his throat suddenly felt like a desert.

"What?" He managed.

"The Queen has graciously agreed to accept you as her trade counsel."

The Queen. Elsa. In an instant he was chilled to the bone, back on the frozen fjords, pushing through a violent storm. He was outside of himself, as much as he was in the moment, lifting that sword. For the good of the people. For the good of himself.

Why hadn't she been more approachable? Why hadn't there been even the slightest chip in her veneer? Arendelle would have been his. The easy way. The clean way. He would be the hero in that story. The kind, patient soul who could open his heart to such a monster. .

_If they only knew._

"I'm sorry. What?"

As if asking again would change anything about that disaster of a sentence. It couldn't even get through his mind in one piece. Instead it tumble in different directions as he tried to right it.

"I sent her a letter expressing my sincerest regrets over your behavior, and offered your sharp mind as a solution to her bargaining woes. She has had a bit of trouble recently, you know. What with her little secret getting out."

"And she accepted?" He stared at her incredulously.

"Well, not before adding a few stipulations. Deal-breakers, according to her. She's far more savvy than her age would suggest."

Savvy. That wasn't the word he would use to describe a woman who agreed to such a deal. Gullible was more apt. Hans thought there was no one in the world more trusting than Anna, but apparently he was wrong.

That did nothing to clarify matters, though.

He moved from the bookcase to a nearby chair, sliding heavily into it. "Explain this from the beginning. Why would you write such a letter?"

"So that we may respond with grace and humility to an ally that is currently in need of our aid." She smiled, and instead of the warmth that usually accompanied the gesture, Hans saw a bit of fire. It burned low, like a hot pit of coals, but it was there.

She was planning something.

"And what made you think I would agree to this?"

She crossed the room, the short train of a summer dress gliding behind her. When she closed the distance, she cupped his jaw and tilted his head up to look at her. The grasp was gentle enough, but the tips of her fingers seared his flesh.

"You're not exactly overburdened with options, Hans." She let go of him then, and he turned away, his jaw clenching. "There's only one person in this family who sees you as anything more than a… problem."

The indignant fire that had started to rage within him was snuffed out instantly. She was right. Despite her ambitions, she had always been the only one to truly appreciate his existence.

He let out a heavy sigh. "What are her terms? Am I going to be paraded around in chains? Or perhaps strung up so that her sister may unleash her aggressions?"

She smiled at him, then returned to her desk, plucking the two-page letter from the top. The Queen of Arendelle was apparently quite verbose.

"Let's see. The first one-I assume these are listed in order of importance-is that you are not permitted to interact with Princess Anna under any circumstances."

That would be easy enough. Anna did have her… charm, in the way that an over-friendly puppy was charming, for a time. And to be fair, he had appreciated how honest she was. But that was because she didn't know any better, nor did she have the sense to figure it out. She was naive, gullible, and seemed younger than her years.

"You will be under constant guard, whether you are in the presence of the Queen or not."

So she'd managed to hire more guards. The pay must have been rather steep, for the hazards of such a position. At least it would give him someone to talk to, though he imagined it would be like talking to the walls. At least the walls could better appreciate his wit.

"When your services are not needed, you are to remain within the confines of the room provided to you."

He chuckled at that. No different from here, though he wondered what sort of room the Queen would find befitting of a would-be murderer. There was a very real possibility he would spend his days listening to her prattle on about the complexities of ruling a kingdom and be returned to some sort of dungeon when she had no need of him.

"And finally, the terms of this agreement will be renegotiated in three months' time. If you have not made significant impact on trade by then, you will be returned to the Southern Isles."

Three months. That was generous. In three months, they would be firmly planted in winter. Trade would become increasingly difficult to arrange. Perhaps she hoped to get by on whatever deals he was able to procure.

"They're reasonable terms," Adeline began. "She should have defined a few more, but she'll learn in time."

Hans arched a brow. Was he going to be the one to teach her, then? He thought he'd already taught her a rather valuable lesson, but this agreement was proof that she hadn't learned anything.

"And what am I meant to be doing there, truly?"

Adeline had a reason for every little machination. Actions were rarely performed out of the goodness of her heart. Even when it came to her affection toward her youngest son.

"You'll finish what you started," she said simply, neatly folding the letter and tucking it into a drawer. "You'll be spending a great deal of time with the Queen. I'm sure you can manage to endear yourself to a woman who's had almost no contact with men."

He wasn't sure if that was a thinly-veiled insult, but it felt best to lean toward believing it was. "She's not as naive as her sister. I doubt she's going to warm up to me very quickly." To her credit, he did try to kill her. "And I can't use the same act I used on Anna."

"Then you'll use what you have. And you'll spend as much time as it takes. Unless you want this crime to be your legacy."

He was quiet for several moments, weighing it out in his mind. His mother wanted the best for him. She always had. He could be King this way. Adored and respected, rather than feared and ignored like he was here. Elsa was a challenge, but not an impossible one. There were cracks in her already; he had seen that after returning her to the castle.

"When am I leaving for this grand adventure?"

"As soon as you exit this room. I've taken the liberty of filling a few trunks for you." Of course she had. "They're already aboard the vessel. Two men will escort you there. They will stay with you throughout the voyage-for propriety's sake."

Hans pushed himself from the chair. He'd expected no less, really. And it wasn't as if he needed to bid anyone goodbye. Even the woman sharing a room with him wouldn't wish a formal send-off.

"Shall I write, then? Perhaps keep a journal of my most torrid secrets as I attempt to woo the Queen?" It was a roundabout way of saying he would miss her.

"You may write, so long as it is vague enough to escape notice. You know your father likes to pry."

He did, though he was rarely successful. The Queen of the Southern Isles kept a very close watch on the comings and goings of her kingdom.

Hans walked toward the door. His mind was already working over an approach when Adeline called to him. "One last thing." She closed in, and that warmth again became something dangerous. "I want you to tell her about your powers."

Somehow this order seemed even less believable than the first, and he gaped at her once again. "What? No. That's a line I'm not going to cross. You saw how they reacted to her. It would be suicide."

"It's not like you're going to be using them in public. You're always so dramatic about this." Hardly. Though... her people did see him as a monster already. What was a little magic between enemies. "Your powers will make it that much easier to gain her trust. You'll confide in her. If she's willing to allow you into her home now, I guarantee she will latch on to your honesty."

He could remember standing within the ballroom, seeing the fractals of ice fly from her hand. In that moment he'd understood her. At least on some level. In that moment he felt sympathy toward her.

Adeline chuckled out of nowhere, a light, lilting song. "Fire and ice. There's something poetic about it, don't you think?"

Flexing his fingers to stop the sensation that had spread down them, Hans stepped out of the drawing room to the company of two waiting guards, closing the door behind him.

He found nothing poetic about it, in fact. He never much cared for the cold.

* * *

**Author's Note: **So, yes. It's a fire!verse story, and slightly AU in that regard. But it just makes so much sense to me. I couldn't not do it.

Also, next chapter will have plenty of Iceburns interaction. Thank you for being patient with me during the setup!


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:** Wow, the amount of reviews, favs, and follows from that last chapter has been truly astounding. Thank you so much, and I'm glad you're enjoying the story!

I'm back at work now, but my plan is to keep uploading a new chapter every 3 days or so, and at the very least, once a week. This one has some interaction with Anna in it and of course the first interaction between Elsa and Hans.

If you'd like to stay updated outside of this site, I'll be posting some stuff to my main tumblr. My username there is **ferretgovroom**. As a warning if you wish to follow me, I post a lot of gaming stuff and reblog things from a bunch of different fandoms. If you just want to follow the tag, I'll be tagging all updates as **#fanfic: queen's counsel**. My ask box will also be open.

Thanks again for reading!

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The ship was late.

Late by nearly three hours. Three long, agonizing hours that Elsa spent pacing her study as tendrils of frost snaked up the walls. Time enough for her to think about just how foolish she was. Time to reflect on all of the poor choices she'd made that had led up to this point.

And plenty of time for her to be cornered by Anna.

She'd told her sister about the arrangement the day after she sent the letter. No more secrets. No more lies. She just hadn't realized how taxing it could be to tell the truth. Or how deeply it could hurt to see her sister's expression go from delight at sharing a meal with her to what she could only describe as complete and utter betrayal.

They'd fought at first. Anna had even tried her hand at the silent treatment, but that only lasted perhaps half the day. She felt guilty for thinking so, but it was almost nice to argue with her sister. That was what sisters did. It was something they'd missed out on growing up.

She just wished they were fighting over something that was worth their time.

Elsa managed to find reasons to avoid her, after that. Perhaps she had thawed a bit since freezing her kingdom, but she knew she still retreated to what was comfortable-what was safe-when it all became too much for her to handle.

Anna knew it too, and when she finally cornered her, she made Elsa all too aware. They argued again. Her sister changed tactics this time, shifting the focus of the conversation from how Hans had tried to kill her, to how he so carelessly used Anna, and would have gladly continued doing so.

Her strategy almost worked, and Elsa found herself sneaking a small smile at her sister's ingenuity.

Now they stood at the docks, a tangible distance between them. Anna had an expression on her face that Elsa clearly remembered from their childhood. It was the same face she made when she didn't want to attend piano lessons.

But this was far more serious than piano lessons, and Elsa's gaze scanned the horizon for the fifth time. The sooner this was over, the sooner they could get on with their lives. After a few moments more, she finally caught sight of the sails, funneled in through the narrow fjords. She stood a little taller, folding her hands in front of her. Even her guards shifted their weight apprehensively.

The anchor was dropped and a ramp bridged the gap between the ship and the dock. She nodded toward her guards and they moved to the end of the dock. A servant accompanied them, prepared to retrieve their "prisoner's" personal effects.

Sounds resonated throughout the cabin and she held her breath. Why had she agreed to this? What was she thinking? No good could come of it. Anna was right. She'd just succumbed to fear and doubt like always. She took the "easy" route, no matter the consequence, because she didn't trust her people to forgive her more than her own capacity to forgive someone who would gladly see her dead.

She could see him then, as he ducked to be free of the cabin. He was bound, his arms behind his back, and she hoped he had spent the entire trip that way. His hair was mussed, he looked to be in need of a shave, and Elsa was sure he wouldn't smell particularly pleasant, either.

She should be pleased to see his perfect, princely act thrown into such disarray. Maybe some distant part of her was, but it was silenced by the ice-driven winds that raged within her.

"Elsa…"

There was apprehension to her sister's voice; maybe even a touch of fear, though Elsa might have imagined that. It broke her free from her focus on the Southern Isles princeling, and she swallowed a hasty breath, taking the next with more composure. There was distance between her and the two guards that remained by her side. Only Anna still stood close, and that was hardly close at all.

Returning to her own head, returning to the present, she understood why. She'd frozen a section of the dock, as well as the water below it. Elsa took a deep breath. Even with her gloves on, the mere thought of this man seemed to goad her into a lack of control. All the more reason to hate him.

She wouldn't let him see that, though. He would use it against her, she was sure of it. He would recognize it as a weakness, because that's precisely what it was. But it was so difficult to focus on anything else. She grasped at a few thoughts, and finally settled on Anna. She had to be calm. She had to be in control of herself. She had to protect her sister.

Slowly the ice thawed, and in less time than she would like, Hans was presented before her. Her assumption about the smell was correct. The slight odor of mold and rotted wood clung to him, and she wondered if the Southern Isles had sent him in the worst vessel. Through it all he wore what Elsa recognized as a very practiced smile. She'd learned how to adopt her own, though certainly not for the same purpose as him.

But she wore no smile for him, and the fact that she could feel Anna's tension beside her, like a fissure just barely held back, made it all the more difficult to remain civil.

"Your Highness," he said, the words practically dripping with insincerity. He gave a partial bow-the best he could do in chains-that Elsa did not acknowledge it. After a moment he slowly glanced toward Anna. "I hope I'm not already breaking one of your ironclad terms."

"My stipulation was that you were not permitted to seek any form of engagement," Gods, what a poor choice of words, "with Princess Anna. I cannot and will not control what she chooses to do."

She could feel the incredulous look Anna gave her, but there was no basis for it. Practically begging her to stay in the castle and leave well enough alone was not controlling her actions. Though if she could, she just might. But keeping her sister safe had become far more complicated than closing a door.

"Perhaps the Princess still has a certain fondness for me."

Elsa drew in a breath, but Anna spoke before she could diffuse the situation. "The only fondness I have is for my fist connecting with your jaw."

"Anna," she said coolly.

"Don't 'Anna' me. I can't believe you're even doing this." There it was. The splintering crack that broke the dam. "How can you even-I mean you-he tried to kill you, Elsa!"

"Anna."

"I mean I've heard that saying before. Or read it. I don't know. The whole 'keep your friends close and your enemies closer' thing? But it's ridiculous. The closer your enemies, the more likely they are to stab you in the back. And just so there's no mistaking, I mean that literally." She leveled a narrow gaze at Hans.

"Anna, please."

"I see why I was called here." Her attention was suddenly drawn back to the source of this contention, and the tempest that brewed within her at Anna's sudden outburst abruptly shifted focus. "If you can't manage to keep your own sister in line, I'd hate to see what your trade negotiations look like."

The sun glinted off one of the guards' spearguns as it was raised into the sky. Elsa didn't bother to stop what she knew was about to occur, and the butt of it made a satisfying sound as it connected with Hans' back. He doubled over, grunting.

"You will treat the Queen and the Princess with the respect that is their due," a guard warned.

Elsa finally raised one hand, her long, slender fingers spreading slightly. The guard righted their prisoner, and she approached him, her slippers clicking against the remnants of ice that still clung to the docks. She stopped perhaps two feet in front of him. Close enough to look him in the eyes as he regained his composure.

"That is the last time you will even mention my sister," she said, the tone of it surprising even her. "I can make this a miserable experience for you, Prince Hans, and one you won't soon forget. Don't mistake my civility toward you for any form of hospitality. We are not friends. We are not equals. While you are here, you will serve me. Is that understood?"

She expected him to make some off-color remark, or for that infuriating smirk to return to his lips. But he stared up at her, still slightly hunched over from where the guard had struck him. He peered into her, and she stood a little taller in defiance. He was taking her measure; deciding if she would stand behind her words, or if they were merely an empty threat.

She would not be found wanting. Not in this.

"He's not worth the time, Elsa." There was a fondness in her sister's voice that somewhat thawed her rigid stance.

"No," she said, "but Arendelle is. Take him to his chambers, please. And he is not to be stricken again."

"What if he tries to escape, Your Majesty?"

Hans leveled a heated gaze at her, but she held it, despite everything that told her to break it and flee. What was she doing? She was used to putting on a show, but this posturing… She couldn't back this up.

"He won't." She finally broke the stare, looking to the taller guard. "And if he does, I will handle him."

By what means, though. He wasn't a man lacking intelligence. He'd nearly managed to acquire a kingdom. Her kingdom. That took a great degree of cunning, and it was foolish to underestimate him. By that token, she knew threats alone would not work. If he pushed boundaries-which something inside of her said he surely would-she would need to push back.

Was she prepared to use her powers in that way? Not out of fear, but as a means of intimidation?

She honestly didn't know.

His eyes caught hers again as the guards escorted him away. Something burned there, buried beneath the facade he wore so well. He was composed now, accepting of his punishment. The slight slump of his shoulders was almost apologetic. But his eyes were defiant, and it sent a chill down her spine.

She watched him leave for a time, suddenly anxious. She'd asked the guards to take him through the service entrance so that the townspeople would not see him. She wasn't even sure how many would remember his deeds, as she thought perhaps they might only recall the strange kindness he had bestowed upon them in Anna's stead. But it was not a risk she was willing to take.

"Wow." Anna's voice pierced through her thoughts, and she turned to face her. "I'm not sure if I should be impressed or a little creeped out right now."

Elsa's smile was flat and forced. When she realized it, she at least tried to slide it into something more honest. Just not honest enough to show Anna that she had no idea what she was doing.

She did not fool herself in thinking that this, too, was anything but a lie. But her sister needed to feel safe. Surely it was justified.

"If that's the language he understands, then that is the language I will use."

Anna peered at her, trying to see through. Evidently she couldn't-at least not quickly enough to suit her tastes-and she gave up after a few moments. Elsa let out the breath she had been holding.

Anna wove her fingers together and looked down at her hands. It was a gesture she still retained from childhood, and it made Elsa's expression soften.

"Hey, about this whole… Thing. It's not you I'm mad at. I mean. I don't agree with your choices, but I know you know what you're doing."

Elsa smiled a patient smile, waiting for her sister to finish.

"It's just… Hans." Anna's voice dropped a bit when she said the name, and Elsa could sympathize. "I hate what he did to you. I hate what he did to me. I hate that I let him do it. I mean who does that? Who's that naive?"

"You couldn't have known what he was. He's a very competent liar." And it was Elsa's fault her sister had absolutely no knowledge of the outside world, to begin with. She would never have fallen into that trap otherwise.

"I guess. I just… Ugh. His stupid face."

Elsa laughed, despite herself, but promptly covered her mouth with her hand. "The sideburns are a tad much."

Anna giggled, and tried to handle it demurely as befitted her station, but she failed quite miserably, erupting into peels of laughter. Elsa couldn't help herself, and she joined the chorus. But it wasn't joy she felt. This wasn't that type of laughter. This was what happened when a situation was so miserable that you toed that very fine line between laughing and crying.

At least it gave them something to bond over.

Elsa's laugh faded into something hollow, and Anna's tapered shortly after. She wiped the tears from her eyes, her voice muffled behind her hands. "Just… Be careful, okay?"

Elsa smiled. "I will." And yet she already felt rather careless. She looked toward the castle again, then sighed. "I prepared a great number of documents for him to review. He will be occupied well into the night. Why don't we have dinner this evening."

"I'd like that," Anna said, practically beaming.

Elsa wondered how her sister could still adore her so, even after all of this. At least tonight they could take dinner in peace and pretend this particular storm was not yet in port.


End file.
